


Do you feel me?

by Rasp8erry



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Blind Character, Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis, Depression, Emotions as a motif, I've never really seen a fanfic with this condition before so I thought id try it, Jimin is blind, M/M, University AU, Yoongi has CIPA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasp8erry/pseuds/Rasp8erry
Summary: Min Yoongi was born unable to feel. But he feels love with Park Jimin





	Do you feel me?

PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU BEGIN:

CIPA is a condition which can have a variety of different symptoms. The base of the condition is that the individual lacks the ability to detect feelings of pain and temperature. The condition is autosomal recessive and caused by the NTRK1 gene which is an important factor in life of neurons in our body. When this gene is altered the protein created cannot transmit signals properly and, as it is responsible for transferring pain and temperature sensations, this leads to the symptoms of CIPA. Other characteristics are the inability to sweat, constant injury due to not being able to feel the pain inflicted, and slower healing time. You might notice in cases in this story that seemingly minor injuries take many weeks (or months) to heal for Yoongi. Yes, this is purposeful as it is a side effect of CIPA. Around half of individuals with CIPA have emotional instability. This is attempted to be portrayed through the motif of emotions in the story. Other symptoms have been decided upon to not be portrayed based on the author's choice. Some of these may have a high chance to actually occur in an individual with CIPA, but because they aren't definite, they have been chosen to be excluded. Finally, please note this condition can run of different levels of severity. Some individuals lack the ability to feel pressure along with the common symptoms. Some can feel some degree of pain. As an individual who does not experience this condition, I will try my best to portray it how I imagine the symptoms to imply. If something I include comes across as offensive or improperly portrayed to a person with this condition, please inform me so that I may correct it. If you don't feel comfortable commenting, you can email me at charlotte.012620@gmail.com. If you have this condition and would like to get in touch and help me work out information I may be lacking in, that would be appreciated! I did a fair amount of research through medical sites and personal blogs but I haven't actually contacted anyone with it and it would be great if I could! Thank you~

Min Yoongi was born unable to feel. His mother monitored him nonstop, afraid something would hurt him. He grew used to constantly observing the temperature of the room, carrying jackets and mini fans with him everywhere he went, and the constant doctor visits. He used to be happy. He used to feel _happiness_ at least. He used to feel the joy in his smile, even if he couldn’t feel the pain of his chapped lips stretching wide to expose his teeth and gums. He used to feel anger, even if he didn’t feel the sharp pain through his legs as he stomped away to his room. He used to feel nervous, even if he couldn’t feel the ache from the red marks he left on his skin from scratching. He expressed these emotions through his writing. He wrote as much as he could. His favorite thing to write was music. He was able to _feel_ when he wrote music. He could feel all the emotions pouring out of him, and when he listened to music, he could hear the emotions that the artists felt. He found it amazing that something held so dear to most cultures was built solely on emotional feelings rather than physical feelings. It was something he could relate to.

Yoongi didn’t know why people looked at him weirdly in the halls at school. It took a few years for his condition to actually sink in. By that point, his mother began looking for tutors for him, rather than school. He had sunk into depression. 

Yoongi had never known what physical pain could feel like, but emotional pain was no stranger to the young boy. His classmates seemed to not recognize the distinction. To them, pain was pain. He wondered, why was he born like this? What curse had been placed upon him to make him deserve _this_? He wanted to feel _something_. He wanted to feel _pain_. 

He wanted to be _normal_.

And because he was so prone to injury, his mother didn’t ask why small cuts kept appearing on his skin. She didn’t ask until far too late, until Yoongi was far too gone. Even his mother didn’t realize the distinction between physical and emotional pain. She was too caught up in monitoring his temperature, treating his wounds, keeping his body physically safe, that she didn’t realize Yoongi’s worst enemy wasn’t the weather, wasn’t sharp corners, nor was it the bullies at school. Rather, it was his own mind. 

Once his mother noticed, he was whisked away to therapy. Now not only was his physical pain being monitored, but his emotional pain as well. He should’ve been thankful. But after therapy, after his family’s support, after learning not to hate himself again, he had nothing. All he had before was his anger, his mental suffering. Now even that was gone and he felt so _empty_.

He knew what was wrong with him. He knew it couldn't be helped. Even that didn’t bother him anymore. He stopped listening to music, he stopped writing, he stopped being who he used to be. Instead, he devoted himself to his studies so he could be the good son his parents wanted him to be. He didn’t want them to worry. He grew up in the protection of his house. He didn’t have many friends besides his tutor, if he even counted. His tutor was a young man named Namjoon who talked slow and explained everything thoroughly. His parents had hired him because he spoke Korean. Yoongi hadn’t had much of a chance to acquire English because he was pulled out of school after only a few years, solely speaking Korean at home. He was trapped in his own little world inside the house. Of course, his parents had Namjoon teach Yoongi English. They feared for when he would need to step out of the house, that he would be lost without the language. 

Eventually the day came when the language proved useful. Yoongi wanted to go to college, and there was no way his parents would allow him to fly all the way back to Korea to attend it. And so, he left the house for something other than a doctor’s visit for the first time in a while and went to a testing center, after studying with Namjoon, to take the tests he would need to apply. 

_Nervous_. It was the first time in a while that Yoongi had felt this emotion. He scratched at his arm furiously as the adult read through the instructions. His mind was attempting to keep up with the fast paced English as he waited to begin. 

“You may begin,” the woman at the front of the classroom spoke, closing her book of instructions as she sat down in the desk facing the students. He felt nervous each time he filled in a lettered bubble with his answer. Even as he walked out of the testing center and met with his mother, he was nervous to find out his results. 

He had to wear a few bandages around his arm for the next few weeks. The red lines his nails had left had dug too deep. By the time his arm had healed, he was scratching again because the results would be released the next day. 

The scratching didn’t stop until he received an email when the scores were released, sending him a link to the website to check his scores. The scratching didn’t stop until Namjoon, sitting there with him, confirmed that the score Yoongi had received was more than acceptable and that he could likely get into more than a few good universities. 

And so he began the process of applications. Namjoon recommended a few good universities nearby and Yoongi blindly agreed, filling out the required essays and information.

Time seemed to speed by, and finally Yoongi had received the letter from a university he had applied to. 

“We are sorry to inform you…”

Yoongi finally discovered _anger_. He was angry at the college for not accepting him. He was angry at Namjoon for telling him he could have gotten in. He was angry at _himself_ for not being good enough. 

Namjoon would often describe, in his poetic manner, that anger felt like a surge of heat. Yoongi used to find some pleasure in these comparisons, trying to imagine what it might be like to feel the so called “heat” of anger spread throughout his whole body. Or perhaps the “chill” of fear. Now these illusions of being normal didn’t really have any effect. He had long since gotten past these. 

However, this idea of the “hot” and “cold” sensations of these feelings lead Yoongi to deny his blankets that night when crawling into bed. His anger was still very prevalent and he was hoping the cold air would chill the warmth of the emotion.

Instead, he woke with a temperature and his mother rushing him to the doctor. 

“How will you survive college?” his mother asked. It stung. Even though he had long since realized that he is _not_ normal and never will be, it hurt for it to be said out loud. 

And so, he tried to prove himself. Finally, he received a letter of acceptance from a college he had liked. _Happiness_ , he realized, was what he felt. 

Come fall he moved into his dorm with his parents. It would be more true to say his parents moved him into the dorm. His mother refused to let him carry any of the boxes, and so he sat on the dorm bed as his father carted in box after box. The University was about a 30 minute drive from their house without traffic. This delighted his parents because it meant they were close enough to reach him. It also was conveniently located near a hospital due to the university’s medical program. His parents promptly worked out details so that he had a doctor at the hospital who was aware of his condition for periodical checkups. 

Once his room had been fully set up, his parents lingered. They insisted that they needed to make sure his roommate was aware of his condition in the case that something happened to Yoongi. His roommate turned out to be an overly energetic boy from Hong Kong named Jackson. His mother had boarded the flight with him to help him move in, but would be taking a flight back the next day. While Yoongi’s side of the room remained, for the most part, pretty lifeless, Jackson lined the walls with posters and photos of his friends, and his desk got decked out with fencing awards. 

He took the news of Yoongi’s condition well. He seemed shocked and certainly curious based on the onslaught of questions he directed at Yoongi, but he was at least thankful Jackson didn’t seem to judge him. 

Jackson poked him with his finger. “Can you feel this?” He grinned. Yoongi wasn’t sure when the last time he had laughed was, but it felt amazing. It was like when he found out he was accepted to this university. The avalanche on joy surprised him but he couldn’t manage to hold back the giggles. 

Later that night, Jackson pulled out a polaroid camera, explaining to Yoongi that it was necessary to give off a slight hipster vibe that he aimed for. He wrapped his arm around Yoongi and grinned as he snapped a picture of them. Once the picture was printed out, he tossed it over to Yoongi. 

“You don’t have much to decorate your side of the room with so I thought you should start somewhere,” Jackson explained. 

Yoongi wasn’t sure what to say besides “thanks.”

Taking Jackson’s words to heart, he asks his parents for a camera. His mother immediately purchases him a high end one, content with the fact that her son seems to be enjoying himself more. Yoongi brings the camera with him everywhere. To the library to study, to the cafe to drink coffee, and to his lectures. 

Besides his new found love for photography, his university life is pretty monotonous. He had somehow merged into the same friend group as his roommate, thankful he hadn’t been abandoned. Their group consisted of 5 of them in total. There was Jackson, of course, along with Mark who hailed from California and was a year older than the rest of them*, Jaebum was from Korea, and Jinyoung who came from the bustling New York City**. Because the majority of them were Korean, Yoongi was happy to be able to converse in his first language. Jackson and Mark had begun to pick up some phrases and vocabulary after being around the bunch of them enough. 

University felt more like home than home did. So when Yoongi went to stay with his parents over winter break, he felt lost. He tried to bring back as much of university to his house than he could. This meant he stayed up late studying for his tests, anything to make it seem like he was back in school. He had been considering studying neuroscience recently, yet was still undecided from the university’s standpoint. However, his schedule was riddled with science classes, leaving his path pretty clear. 

And so, the year continued as such until finals wrapped around the corner. His days were spent at the cafe, drinking coffee as he reviewed his notes. The weekend before his tests began marked a visit with his doctor. His doctor was shocked to see how the inside of his mouth and his tongue looked positively burnt. Besides that, he was healthy. The doctor told him to avoid hot drinks while his mouth had time to heal. So he took an iced coffee to his final. The drink had become watered down as the ice melted and Yoongi had scrunched up his face in disgust. 

After the unenjoyable week, as his boxes moved out of the dorm, he acknowledged the fact that he was really leaving. Jackson had already given him his kakao and they had sworn to message each other, along with the others in their group chat. Yoongi still couldn’t help the sadness he felt. 

Even so, he returned to his house, his prison, and let the long days run by him. He had enough of his days spent tediously going about his routine. Yoongi pulled out his phone to see “3 new messages from Jackson”. He swiped past that screen and opened a chat with his old tutor. Namjoon had mentioned he was planning on getting an internship over the summer rather than flying back to Korea. It had been then that Yoongi had realized how little he knew the man.

He always knew Namjoon _spoke_ Korean, but he never knew he was from Korea. He assumed the slight accent when they spoke English should have given it away, but Namjoon had been his only tie to English and therefore it had just seemed normal at the time. The noise his phone made broke him out of his thoughts, indicating that Namjoon had responded. 

_Hi Namjoon hyung_

_Yoongi! Long time no see. How is university?_

_Good.. You told me you were staying around this summer right?_

_Yeah ^^ why? Do you need some help with studies? :o_

_I was just wondering if you wanted to get coffee.. I havent seen you in a while_

_Ohh sure. Wanna meet tomorrow at that cafe near your university? I’ll be right nearby there actually haha I’m free for lunch, around 1 maybe?_

_Ok thank you_

_Yea^^ Cya tomorrow!_

Yoongi felt _nervous_ again. He had never spoken to Namjoon in a setting not related to school work. He wasn’t sure where they would even start. It felt as though Namjoon knew everything about him, yet he knew nothing about Namjoon.

And so tomorrow came and Yoongi snuck out to take the train to meet Namjoon. The train was full of people and Yoongi didn’t feel the heavy foot on his, crushing his toes. He arrived at the stop near his university and got off. Once he arrived at the cafe, he immediately spotted Namjoon and his brightly colored hair.

They sat beside the window, the buzz of the town rushing by outside. Yoongi ordered a large mocha, he asked for them to not make it as hot as normal. When they had gotten their drinks, Namjoon still felt the side of his drink before deeming it ok to drink. It was little things like this that Yoongi missed. His friends at university were great, but they didn’t understand his condition like Namjoon did. Namjoon seemed to know everything that Yoongi didn’t even know. It was the soft caring that Yoongi missed. He missed Namjoon.

He felt fuzzy as he chatted with Namjoon. For the first time, he found out the Namjoon actually studied at the med school at his university, which was why he was nearby. Yoongi decided, once and for all, that his major certainly would be science. Preferably pre-med oriented.He listened to Namjoon speak about how he wanted to study neuroscience, which was why he was so intrigued by Yoongi.

 _Intrigued_. It left a bitter taste in his mouth that all Namjoon saw him as was an _experiment _. Something to observe. It made him feel sad.__

“Sorry, that was a bit rude, wasn’t it?” Namjoon awkwardly scratched behind his head. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” Namjoon elaborated. Hurt? Yoongi wondered, was this hurt? He felt sad, angry, betrayed, but he wasn’t sure how to label it. 

“It’s ok,” he mumbled out. He started scratching at his arm under the table. He looked down and saw the red marks forming but couldn’t be bothered to stop. 

“Maybe I should visit you at university next year. I mean I’m right nearby,” Namjoon offered with a small tilt of his head. Yoongi nodded in response and Namjoon promised to text him more. He then rushed off back to his internship. 

_More_ ended up being once a week at best. But Yoongi kept up conversation with his other friends to keep him distracted. Despite the time differences, they made it work. And before long, school was only a week away and Yoongi’s bedroom was beginning to be packed up again. Yoongi and Jackson had requested to stay roommate and had gotten their wish. He was happy he wouldn’t need to inflict his condition on someone new. 

Surprisingly, Namjoon ended up actually keeping his promise of meeting Yoongi at the cafe. Namjoon helped him go over his class notes and study as long as Yoongi bought him coffee for the session. 

Just like any day, Namjoon was sitting beside Yoongi in the cafe. Suddenly, a large clap broke them out of their focussed mode. Glancing outside, the thunder struck again as the rain poured down. 

“Ah, shit. My dorm is pretty far away. I should get going.” Namjoon groaned and reached for his certainly not waterproof coat. 

“My dorm is close,” Yoongi stated. Namjoon raised an eyebrow, waiting for Yoongi to continue. “You could stay at it until the rain is over if you’d like. My roommate probably wouldn’t mind.” More like he definitely wouldn’t mind, Jackson loved company. 

He led Namjoon through the rain to his dorm, too lazy to pull out his key so he banged on the door. Namjoon looked at his hand, worried. Jackson opened the door before Namjoon could inquire to look at Yoongi’s hand, though, and they entered with the excited chatter of Jackson.

”Yoongi! Who is this? I didn’t know you had other friends. Wait no! Don’t take that the wrong way I ju-” Jackson blabbered on, only to be interrupted by the taller male.

”I’m Namjoon. Namjoon Kim,” he introduced. 

”Jackson Wang. Pleasure to meet you.” A grin spread on Jackson’s face and he offered a pair of dry clothes to Namjoon. “They’ll be too short, but I’m at least bigger than Yoongi over there.” Both of them chuckled at that. Yoongi didn’t. 

By the time the rain stopped, Yoongi had long since droned out the hum of their voices and fallen asleep. He woke up to Jackson on his phone, texting Namjoon, as he was informed. Anger.

Yoongi knew he wasn’t _normal_ , but why did that mean he didn’t get anything he wanted? How was it fair. He had already lost the lottery at life, why did that mean others around him had to make him feel even more vulnerable, even more useless.

But who was he to drop the only people caring for him right now? So he stayed with his friends. They hadn’t directly done anything harmful to him. He went to his doctor for a standard checkup a few days later, the weekend after. He broke 3 of his toes and his fist was seriously bruised. So he walked around with his foot in a cast and his hand wrapped in bandages. No one really asked. They shouldn’t, really. Most people he had never really bothered to associate with so they spared him the same treatment. Sometimes he wished they would ask. He wasn’t going to break down crying in front of the student body, but he just really wanted someone to check on him regardless, make sure his emotions were in line just like his body. But his doctor didn’t check up on that.

**Author's Note:**

> *I know the rest of them aren't actually all the same age. Later on, this same comment can be made for other characters.  
> ** I know he's not actually from here. This same comment can be made later when other points of origins are introduced.
> 
> If I didn't include anything you were wondering about, comment or note the email included in my introduction and feel free to write to me! ^^ Please keep in mind if it is anything about certain motifs of concepts I included but didn't finalize, there will be later chapters which may clear those up!


End file.
